


Apologies (For What I Haven't Done)

by MoMoMomma



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Angst, Hate Sex, Loss of Trust, M/M, POV Alternating, The Author Regrets Everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 02:03:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10821447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoMoMomma/pseuds/MoMoMomma
Summary: He has no idea of what tomorrow brings. To him, it’s little more than another mission on Kadara.If only it were so simple.





	1. One Last Night

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I'm gonna go ahead and say that I'm sorry upfront for this one. Alllll I wanted to do was write a little heart-breaking piece from Reyes' POV, because none of you can convince me it didn't kill him inside to lie to Scott for so long. And this...somehow happened. I promise, I swear that if you can make it through, there's a happy ending! And I hope that, as always, you enjoy!

He’ll tell him tonight. He’ll open his mouth and let every secret and filthy omission spill onto the carpet between them. And he’ll stay strong; he won’t collapse at his feet and beg for forgiveness and absolution for his sins. 

“And maybe,” Reyes says wearily, finishing off the last of his whiskey with a harsh swallow that burns all the way down, “at some point, I’ll stop lying to  _ myself _ as well.”

Whatever he was going to say next, whatever harsh chastisement he had lingering on the tip of his tongue, is interrupted by the way the door to his quarter’s opens. Scott--precious Scott, with his easy smile and helpful nature and gleaming  _ goodness _ that nearly obliterates Reyes’ shadows--stands in the jambs, still clad in his armor, peering through the darkness.

“You look like you’re waiting for someone.” The repeated phrase slips off his tongue oil slick, but Reyes hears the emptiness behind the words.

So does Scott, if his frown and careful steps forward are any indication. The door shuts behind him, locking them into the small room that passes for Reyes’ quarters, and Reyes feels his heart thump out of rhythm for a quick moment.

“Where are your friends?”

“You said to come meet you to discuss something,” Scott answers with an arch of his brow, a smile pulling at his mouth as he crosses the room. “Didn’t figure that needed back-up? Unless I was wrong--I can call a few to come down, if I need to?”

“No,” Reyes shoves to his feet, cursing his loose tongue, reaching out to grip Scott’s hips and pull him in close. “No, I--I wanted it to be...just us. Private conversations are often more difficult with an audience, no?”

“What’s on your mind, Reyes?” Scott drawls, shifting into his touch, so close Reyes can smell the sulfur lingering on the shining plates of his armor.

“I wanted to...talk. About us.”

“Oh, there’s an ‘us’ now, is there? Thought your only love was well-aged whiskey.” Scott teases, and Reyes can’t help a bashful laugh, remembering the way that night had gone to hell so quickly.

It had been a risk anyhow. Luckily he’d had the backup plan of getting the whiskey, hiding his intentions, and Scott had shown up well after he’d scanned the storage crates for the information he needed. The kiss though...a distraction for more than the guard and something he needed to quickly stop thinking about, lest his cock ruin his plans for  _ this _ evening too.

“A man with a heart as large as mine can love many things,” he banters back, pulling Scott in close for a kiss.

It nearly breaks him how eagerly Scott leans into it, how his mouth falls open on a moan, how his hands grip into the fabric of Reyes’ clothes like he’s desperate to get rid of them. He’s so  _ hungry _ for touch, for Reyes’ attention, and it makes something inside him shatter, razor edges slicing until his chest is aching.

He can’t--the truth would destroy what he’s carefully built. What Scott has freely offered with no hidden traps, no concealed agendas.

Reyes has lost too much. This...this loss may be what does him in.

“Oh, you wanted to  _ talk _ ,” Scott purrs when Reyes draws back, eyes heavy-lidded and lips quirked into an amused grin. “Is that what they call it on Kadara?”

“Don’t blame it on me,” Reyes breathes quietly, pressing their foreheads together for a split second, too much emotion choking his voice before he clears it with a rough sound. “You are...something else, Scott.”

“I try,” Scott answers effortlessly before his hands drop from Reyes’ hips to trace the clasps of his armor. “Should I--?

“ _ Yes _ ,” Reyes closes his eyes against the wave of heat that rushes over him, stance widening to accommodate the way his cock thickens behind his zipper. “I--I cannot offer you what I wish, what I want. But if you would have me--”

“Reyes,” Scott cups his face, drawing him into another kiss, one that’s softer, gentler than the earlier desperation. “I just want you. I don’t care if it’s here or in a storage room or--or, hell, even in one of the damn caves. As long as it’s you...I want it.”

_ Oh, but this gorgeous boy will be the death of him. _

Reyes takes a moment, wraps all his secrets and desires up in barbed wire, sticks them in a portion of his brain not to be touched, and exhales slowly. If he says it now, it will ruin everything. Scott’s eyes will change, losing their happy sparkle, become just as shaded and guarded as his own. He won’t look at Reyes like he hung the very moon anymore.

He’ll look at him like everyone else does. Like a man who’s got a grip on a knife even as he shakes hands. Someone you wouldn’t trust in a brightly lit room, let alone the dark shadows of the slums.

And Reyes...is not certain he could survive that sort of change.

“Take off your clothes.” He says finally, eyes opening to watch the flush spread across Scott’s cheeks. “And go get on the bed.”

He watches Scott undress with shaky hands, fumbling fingers dropping armor, pulling so hard on some of the clasps the metal makes horrible screeching noises. He doesn’t help, keeps his hands clenched into fists at his sides, wanting to savor these moments.

It’s only delaying the inevitable. Scott will find out tomorrow when Sloane summons him and asks for him to tag along while she meets with the Charlatan--meets with  _ him _ . Then his gaze will go cold, dark, no doubt the memories they make tonight clashing with the sickening surge of bile from the revelation.

But Reyes cannot help himself. He’s not touching Scott under false pretenses. For tonight, he only wants to be himself, to just be Reyes, to just be  _ Scott’s _ .

Scott’s bare form is something to be lusted after; each muscle carved out in stark relief from the rigors of his job. His skin is relatively unmarked, yet another reminder of how young he is, how little battle he has truly seen. And he bites his lip before crossing to the bed, bouncing slightly when he throws himself on it, nervously shifting when Reyes stalks after him. He makes himself stop short, a few inches between him and the end of the bed, eyes drinking in the sight Scott makes there.

“If I could keep you in my bed forever,” Reyes shakes his head, watching the way Scott’s blush crawls down his throat, spreading across his chest. “You are too good for me, Scott. Too much a treasure, one I do not deserve.”

“I don’t believe that.” Scott defends, Reyes’ heart going soft at the earnest truth in his expression. “You’re an amazing guy, Reyes. And I’m the lucky one here.”

“I--” No words come, though he’s normally never at a loss for them.

Reyes closes his mouth, shakes his head once more, before smoothly sinking to his knees between Scott’s legs. Nearly instantly hands reach for him, cupping his jaw, fingers sliding into his hair, and Reyes nuzzles Scott’s palm for a long moment.

“Let me worship you, cariño,” he murmurs, the endearment clumsy on his tongue--it’s been far too long since he’s used it and  _ meant _ it. “For tonight, allow me this.”

“Can you strip down too?” Scott asks shyly, thumb swiping slow over the curve of his cheekbone. “I’m feeling...I dunno, exposed? At a disadvantage?”

How could he resist such an adorable request?

Reyes makes quick work of it, standing only to strip with clinical detachment. He’s known his body for many years now; there’s nothing about it worth lingering over. The scars and other places where the struggles he’s faced since arriving in Heleus mark his body aren’t worth any sort of lingering adoration.

Though Scott’s sharp inhale makes him think perhaps he’s the only one who believes that.

He shoulders back between Scott’s thighs once the last of his clothing is cast aside, propping one slim calf on his shoulder and turning to press a gentle kiss to the inside of Scott’s knee. The muscles beneath his fingers tense as Scott makes a soft noise, and Reyes grins into the trail of kisses he starts to leave. He’s got a clear target in mind; the thick cock between Scott’s thighs, so heavy with blood it’s laying against his stomach. But he needn’t rush this.  _ Can’t  _ rush this. Not when he wants to commit every sound, every touch, every  _ taste  _ to memory.

Reyes won’t get a chance like this again. Not after tomorrow. And he intends to savor the moment, cling to it like he’s clung to nothing else since he left Earth.

If only to torture himself with the thoughts of what might have been once those possibilities lay in ashes at his feet.

Scott’s fingers tighten in his hair when he presses a firm kiss to the base of his cock, following it with a slow stroke of his tongue. The thigh pressed to his shoulder shakes, muscles twitching as Scott groans, tipping onto his back. Reyes runs his free hand up the stretch of soft skin, nails scraping over Scott’s stomach, even as he mouths at the thick tip.

“Reyes, I--” Scott’s words are lost to a groan when Reyes sucks the head into his mouth, tongue working in a lazy pattern of swirls.

“Did you want something?” Reyes teases, arm curling around Scott’s raised thigh to grip the length of his cock, holding it steady for his languorous licks.

“I haven’t...since cryo, I--there hasn’t been any--oh  _ fuck _ .” The meaning behind the stuttered words is clear, and Reyes can’t help but swallow him down until his lips meet the curl of his hand.

This is a greater gift than he ever anticipated. And he’s just enough of a bastard to be unwilling to give it up.

Not when Scott is pulling him in closer, heel digging into his shoulder blade, fingers pulling on his hair with just the right side of too much.

“Am I your first, Scott?” He asks, pulling back with a soft moan, staying close enough that his lips brush the leaking head when he speaks.

“I’ve had--you’re  _ not _ .” Scott defends, pushing up onto his elbow to glare down at him and oh, how  _ adorable _ he is, all flushed red and rumpled. “It’s just; there hasn’t been anyone since cryo. And 600 years is a big gap.”

“You’re  _ sensitive _ .” Reyes grins, tongue flickering out to drag slow up the underside, harsh pressure that makes Scott drop back with a whine. “Oh, cariño, you will never cease to amaze me.”

“I hate you.” Scott groans and Reyes ignores the way the words make something sour twist in his stomach.

It’s a tease now, a meaningless insult that is a reaction to what he’s doing to him. Tomorrow...the words may not be so. Tomorrow they will sting and cut through him.

But that is then. And this moment is the one he wants to live in right now.

“I don’t think that’s quite true,” he says roughly, before sinking his mouth down around Scott once more.

It doesn’t take long, Reyes was more correct than he thought when he teased him about his sensitivity, and before long Scott is curling around him. His thighs knot up, body bending until both hands are cupping the back of Reyes’ neck, and he peels his hand away to swallow Scott down to the base. From there it’s a mere matter of swallowing, letting his throat spasm almost violently against the pressure, and Scott is undone.

He cries out Reyes name when he comes, nails biting into his scalp, body shaking around his shoulders. Reyes works him through it, a hand quickly grabbing and pumping, pulling back to let the come pool on his tongue. He locks eyes with Scott, ignoring the strain on his neck, and swallows thickly, watching the way Scott’s eyes roll back, and he shudders in response.

Reyes suckles until Scott pushes him away with shaking hands, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth as he untangles from the younger man’s legs and pushing himself to his feet. Scott looks  _ amazing _ in the aftermath, hair in complete disarray, lips bright red from the abuse of his teeth, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. Reyes commits the scene to memory, eyes bouncing from one alluring detail to another, but is forced to stop when Scott sits up to reach for his cock.

“No, cariño,” he says, catching Scott’s wrist and dipping to press a kiss to the thin skin on the inside. “For tonight...I wanted to give you pleasure. I expect nothing in return.”

“I want to--I don’t want to seem ungrateful. Let me do something for you.” Scott argues, and Reyes pushes down the wicked thoughts of how exactly Scott could repay him.

It would make him an even bigger bastard to do that. To allow Scott to open up his body for him, allow a liar to slip inside, take something no one has in 600 years. And despite the fact that his cock is on-board with the ideas spinning through his head, hard and throbbing between his legs, Reyes cannot bring himself to do it.

He is a bastard, but he is not heartless. Not when it comes to the sweet boy in front of him.

“Then let me hold you,” Reyes says, thumb brushing across Scott’s pulse, holding up a finger to silence his expected argument. “Ah. You wanted to give me something I wanted. And I  _ want _ to hold you. Would you deny me?”

“Can’t deny you anything,” Scott grumbles, Reyes biting back a laugh as he climbs onto the bed next to him.

Scott fits into his arms like nothing else ever has; back pressed to his chest; ass a tempting curve against the line of his cock. It would be so easy to thrust forwards, to rub off against that delicious enticement. But he wants Scott resting like this more than he wants the orgasm, wants to be able to track every way his body relaxes, sinking into Reyes’ hold. He won’t be able to do that if he’s busy chasing his own pleasure.

“So, did you actually want to talk about something?” Scott asks finally, voice thick with sleep, fingers tracing over the back of Reyes’ hand, dragging up and across his forearm. “Or was it all a clever ruse to get me into your bed?”

It is lucky Scott isn’t facing him, can’t see the way Reyes’ face crumples in pain for a split second before he forces the expression away. Moments like these...make it easy to forget what’s coming next for them. Makes the distant burning of their relationship seem more like a small campfire, not a raging volcanic eruption.

“I received information that the Charlatan was going to be confronting Sloane in some way.” Reyes chooses his words carefully, exhales them into the nape of Scott’s neck, and ignores the bile rising in his throat. “I doubt she’ll let you ignore it since you’re dry-docked right now. I wanted you to be warned, wanted you to know she’ll likely come calling for you.”

“Pathfinder to peacekeeper,” Scott yawns, snuggling back into his embrace, and Reyes feels his heart break at the light tone.

He has no idea of what tomorrow brings. To him, it’s little more than another mission on Kadara.

If only it were so simple.

“It’s probably all rumors, but I’ll keep an eye on my emails just in case.” Scott murmurs, voice slurring as his body starts to relax into the mattress. “The Charlatan hasn’t done anything in so long, can’t see them making a move now. Not right after I set up an outpost.”

“Who knows?” Reyes keeps his voice light, forces the words past a growing tightness in his throat. “Maybe your outpost has something to do with it? Either way...I thought you should know.”

“You’re too good to me,” Scott mumbles, lacing his fingers through Reyes’ where they rest over his stomach.

It’s easy to tip his head back a bit, ensuring the sudden tears slipping down his cheeks don’t touch Scott’s skin. He’s marked him enough tonight...no need for any more.

“On the contrary. I am not nearly good enough.”


	2. Betrayal and Payback

“Guess you got everything you wanted.” 

The words cut, he knew they would, but Reyes keeps his back to Scott as he leads him deeper into the cave. Away from Sloane’s cooling body, away from the Jaal and Drack, for some semblance of privacy.

This conversation...will not be easy. And would be infinitely more difficult with an audience.

“What I  _ wanted _ ,” he finds himself saying, scrambling for level ground between them, “is peace. Sloane would’ve brought war to Heleus. We don’t have the population to survive that.”

His explanation falls flat, he knows it even as he offers it up, and Reyes resists the urge to rub at his nape. Scott’s disapproval is an almost tangible thing, itching at the back his neck, pouring over him like oil--making each breath more difficult.

“Is Reyes even your real name?” Scott snaps, footsteps coming to an abrupt stop and Reyes can’t control his response, anxiety spiking at the thought of finally coming to terms with his lies.

“It’s what my mother called me.” He sighs, stopping a few feet away and turning, finally meeting Scott’s gaze. “It’s my real name. I only lied because I didn’t want the rumors of ‘the Charlatan’ to taint your view of me.”

“What the hell did it matter what I thought?” Scott folds his arms over his chest, the gleaming black of his battle armor blending neatly with the shadows.

It looks...wrong, Reyes thinks desperately, mind bouncing without any real landing on a topic. Scott should never be shadowed. Something so bright...to cover it in darkness seems like an insult.

“I...like you. Not all of it was lies and subterfuge, Scott. What I shared with you--that was real. That was who I am.”

“Hard to lie when you’ve got your mouth around my cock.” Scott spits, eyes sparking fire as he shifts, nervous tension in his shoulders, looking like he’s gearing up for a fight. “Was I just some passing fun? Or was it the Pathfinder title and perks that caught your interest?”

This is all...going wrong. Not unexpected, but wrong nonetheless.

“Scott, I--no. It wasn’t.”

“Is that why you wanted to  _ cuddle _ ?” Scott snarls the world like it leaves a terrible taste on his tongue, arms uncrossing as he takes an angry step forward. “Was it a balm for your fucking conscious? Oh, it’s alright, at least I didn’t fuck him while I was lying to him.”

There’s a beat, where Reyes can’t muster up any words enough to calm him, and Scott seems to deflate. It aches to see him like this, see the proud man, the optimistic light of hope, so defeated and know that  _ he _ did this. He took something beautiful and precious and broke it into shards that will likely never fit back together right.

He can’t see his expression when he speaks, Scott’s head hanging low on his shoulders, speaking to the ground. But the words make him step forward, reach a useless hand out, something inside him cracking with a vicious split.

“Was it all a lie? Did you--did you care about me at all? Or was I just another thing to be used?”

“No, I--Scott, everything I felt for you, everything I said, it was all real.  _ Nothing _ about us being together was a lie, you have to believe me.” Reyes swallows thickly, trying to fight back his emotions, trying to keep his voice steady. “I--I love you. And that scares me more than anything else ever has.”

“ _ Shut up _ !” Scott’s head snaps up, and he does bridge the distance between them then, grasping Reyes’ arms in a punishing grip and forcing him backward into the rock.

He feels his breath leave him at the impact, back flattening to the unforgiving stone, fingers scrambling at Scott’s chest plate. There’s  _ fire _ in Scott’s eyes, amidst the pain and darkness that now linger there.

That Reyes put there. With his callous plans and gentle hands.

“I’m not interested in more pretty, empty words.” Scott snaps, face twisted into a grimace of rage. “I’m not something you can manipulate with promises anymore, Reyes. I’m not the same stupid boy you suckered into believing you.”

“Scott, I--”

“No.” Scott interrupts, taking one long breath, eyes fluttering shut for a split second before they snap open once more.

There’s...something dangerous in his eyes then. And Reyes, despite his contingency plans and the knowledge he could drag any fight out long enough for back-up to get there...is scared. Because he’s never seen that look on Scott’s face before. Never seen the sort of cold-hearted glare that now lives in those gorgeous blue depths.

The unfamiliarity is more threatening than the hold Scott still has on him.

The kiss that follows his stare, the harsh press of their lips, is a surprise even he couldn’t have predicted. It’s vicious, a punch in a more intimate form, and Reyes lets his jaw relax with surprise when Scott’s tongue pushes insistently at the seam of his lips. It doesn’t get any gentler as it deepens, Scott determined to map out every inch of his mouth, and Reyes is helpless to do little more than grab at his shoulders for balance.

This is all wrong. So much of this is wrong.

Ah, but wrong is where he’s lived for so long now...should it be so difficult to accept?

Scott’s hands drop from his arms, leaving an ache that Reyes knows will mean bruises when he peels his clothes off. A damning, soppy part of him is glad he will have that as a reminder, at least. One palm presses against his chest, pinning him backward, and Reyes chokes on a gasp when Scott’s other hand curves over his cock. His body responds, cock jerking and hardening beneath the rough pressure, even as Reyes yanks back from the kiss to stare in disbelief.

“Scott, what are you--”

Perhaps he was wrong? Perhaps Scott was...trusting him? Perhaps he hadn’t ruined everything in the way he was certain he had?

If Scott still wants him...even after that…

No. The anger is still there, marring Scott’s gorgeous face, twisting it into a snarl even as his hand tears at Reyes’ zipper.

“Get these down. Don’t fucking--don’t talk to me. Just get your cock out.”

Scott lifts his hand after the command, using his teeth to strip out of his glove, tossing it aside. Reyes feels ungrounded as he complies, shaky hands pushing at his clothes, shoving everything aside and down until his cock is freed. Scott doesn’t let him speak, barely lets him  _ breathe _ , before his hand wraps around him once more.

The touch, rough and hurried, still drags a moan from him and Reyes squeezes his eyes shut as his hips buck forwards. Scott’s lips rest on his ear, body pressed in close, even as he works Reyes’ cock with quick motions.

There is no love, no affection, in his touch. It’s pain mixed with the pleasure, and Reyes feels the absurd need to cry even as he thrusts into the hold Scott has on him.

“This is it for us. After this, I don’t ever want to hear from you again.”

“Why are you--” Reyes’ voice gives out on a whine when Scott’s palm drags against his skin, too dry, too much even for him.

Scott’s lip curls in a snarl even as he lets go, lifts his hand between them to spit into his palm, before grabbing hold once more. The new ease to the slide is electric, and Reyes’ fingers bite into cold metal armor as he tries to make sense of it all. Because if Scott is truly angry, why is he doing this? Is it a goodbye in physical form? Scott’s way of punishing him?

Truly, he could think of worse punishments than a hand job, if that truly is the case.

“I’m doing this so we’re  _ even _ .” Scott hisses through gritted teeth, sending a fissure of ice down Reyes’ spine. “I’m doing it so I don’t owe you a goddamn thing, do you understand me? I’m not going to be in debt to a liar like you.”

_ You wouldn’t be _ , Reyes wants to scream. _ I would never hold anything against you. Please, do not do this. Don’t leave me with this as our last memory. _

That had been the point of last night. The point of leaving it with Scott satisfied and their bodies cuddled close together. To leave Reyes with a memory as gentle and pure as he remembered Scott being at their first meeting.

It would seem Scott was not intent on being so kind.

He doesn’t deserve it--yet it still hurts, makes something inside his chest, something he’d long thought dead, twist and ache like he’s been shot.

His orgasms hits like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath from his chest and dragging a weak cry of Scott’s name from his throat. Scott works him through it, motions jerky and quick, less coaxing Reyes’ orgasm from him and more demanding he get it over with. There’s no care to his touch and it hurts Reyes worse than the way Scott pushes away from him the second his cock has spurted out the final dribble of come.

Scott surveys him for one long second, a pace away, and Reyes wants to sob when he sees his expression  _ crack _ .

“If you would have told me...I would have helped you. I loved you too, Reyes.”

“Past tense,” Reyes notes, blinking quickly to fight back his tears as Scott’s expression closes off once more.

“Past tense.” He snaps, before turning to leave, stomping out of the cave like he’s got a hound of hell on his heels.

And taking part of Reyes’ heart with him.

“Cariño,” Reyes whispers at his back, knowing he can’t hear him, knowing Scott doesn’t  _ want _ to hear him. “It isn’t for me. I wish...wish I would have told you.”

The wind whipping through the cave is his only answer and Reyes puts himself back to rights with uncoordinated fingers, trying to put his soul back together alongside his clothes. There’s much to be done, Kadara depends on him now.

He couldn’t give Scott what he needed. And now he’s lost his chance forever. But damned if he won’t protect the outpost, protect Scott’s people, now that he has the chance. Now that Kadara isn’t under the control of a mad woman any longer.

If it’s the closest he gets to Scott ever again...it will be enough.

It has to be.


	3. Stages of Suffering (How Heavy is a Soul?)

“Scott, may I speak to you for a moment?”

It’s hard to lift his head, the world tipping on its axis, going fishbowl round for a split second when Scott glances up at SAM Node. The blue orb pulses and makes something in his stomach lurch, Scott quickly looking towards the floor between his feet. The whiskey bottle near his foot is nearly empty, so little liquid in it that none is spilling out, despite lying on its side.

Makes sense. Scott’s pretty sure he’s more whiskey than blood at the current moment. When something gets emptied, something else has to be filled up. Exchange of...something that is far too complicated for his inebriated brain to understand.

“What’s up?” He slurs out, wincing at the overloud crackle of static in the back of his mind.

SAM’s presence is usually a comfort, a constant companion that Scott is glad for during the nights he sees happy, painful memories behind closed lids. Right now it’s too...too everything. Too loud, too close, too much SAM-ness and not enough human-ness.

“You have ordered me to not alert you to any messages from Mr. Vidal and I have complied. But you have received them.”

Scott’s struck dumb for a single second, the mechanical hum of SAM’s voice curving around Reyes’ name making pain curdle what’s in his stomach. It disappears soon, burning up in a rush of rage, of hurt, and Scott grits his teeth together in a snarl.

“And? Why are you telling me this, SAM?”

“I have compared Mr. Vidal’s messages to the psychological stages of grief. It would seem, as of his last message, he has completed the cycle. However, you remain in the Anger stage. Though your behavior tonight indicates a possible pass onto the Bargaining stage.”

“How--what did I do tonight?”

“Your interactions with Gil during the poker game were flirtatious in nature. Overtly so, to the point where even I could recognize them, with my limited understanding of the phenomenon.”

_ Fuck _ .

“Gil is--” Scott scrubs at his face with rough hands, the skin numb beneath his touch, no doubt flushed red. “Gil understands. He knows it’s just for fun. I’m--Gil’s got no interest in damaged goods like me.”

“You are whole,” SAM says, a strange comfort behind his words that feels electric and odd but not  _ wrong _ . “Though you are in a pain I do not comprehend. I am programmed to respond and assist with physical injuries. Yours is emotional.”

“Still hurts like a bitch,” Scott said, peeking out from behind his fingers, giving staring at the pulsing ball another go. “I--what are you trying for here, SAM? I’m too drunk for a talk-around.”

“I believe that watching Mr. Vidal’s messages may help you cope with your pain. Or perhaps ease you out of the current stagnation in your emotional state regarding your relationship.”

“There isn’t a relationship anymore.” Scott spits, dropping clenched fists to his thighs. “He ended it when he lied to me. When he decided his plans were more important than us.”

“If you watch his messages, I believe you will find that statement to be false.” SAM intoned quietly, “I have restored them and queued them in order on your terminal. The decision is, ultimately, yours.”

It’s a bad idea. It’s a fucking  _ terrible  _ idea. Because Scott has been doing good--so damn good. He hasn’t thought about Reyes during the day, and it only feels like a healing scar in his chest now. Not the raw-sucking pain of a bleeding wound that threatens to drag him to the other side. But he’s just drunk enough that it makes him reckless, and the anger that mixes in when he thinks of Reyes is one hell of a match.

At least when this particular Molotov erupts, it’ll be in the privacy of his quarters.

The trip to the terminal is...more difficult than he’d like to admit. The ground shifts under his feet, wobbling in a way that threatens to toss him to the floor. It takes three tries to actually wrench the chair back from the desk and Scott collapses into it with a rough noise, stomach angrily rolling over the sudden movements.

There’s a fucking  _ list  _ of messages in his inbox. He’s too drunk to comprehend the time between them, far too drunk to actually pick the best one to watch first, and Scott’s head lolls against the back of the chair as he speaks up.

“SAM? I can’t--can you play them in order for me? Not...not all of them. Just...the important ones?”

“I will select a video that best exhibits each stage of grieving that Mr. Vidal experienced. A moment while I compile the choices.”

The screen jolts in front of him, juttering for a split second, certain messages highlighted and switching their places in the list. Finally, SAM speaks up once more, once there’s a neat list of five--or is it six? Or maybe only three? Fuck, he’s too drunk for counting.

“These messages best represent the stages I mentioned. Are you prepared to watch them?”

_ No. Not even fucking remotely. _

“Yeah, SAM,” Scott clears his throat. “Go for it.”

“Beginning playback.”

Seeing Reyes’ face again is...Scott swallows past a sudden knot at the base of his throat. It shouldn’t hurt, not months later. But it stings like the acid in Kadara’s water and he shakily drags in a breath before leaning forward when the man starts to speak.

_ “This cannot...Scott, this cannot be happening. I--I recieved word that you just left Kadara port. I understand, after all, you are a very busy man, and many need your attention. I wish you had, perhaps, stopped to say goodbye first, but I know I can be...difficult to find. I will watch the Outpost in your absence, offer assistance in any way that I can. Next time you stop by, please come talk with me. I think we need to discuss what happened and see what we do next.” _

There’s a slight pause, a moment where Reyes glances down, at something off camera, and when he looks back up his eyes are shining too bright.

_ “I love you, Scott. Please, I--I look forward to hearing from you. Reyes out.” _

“He...he’s fucking acting like nothing happened!” Scott’s hands go white on the arms of the chair, the pressure making the plastic underneath crack dangerously.

“Denial is the first stage,” SAM says quietly in his mind, even as a loading symbol appears on the screen. “I would offer a warning that the next video is...it could be emotionally hurtful. Anger is one of the most powerful human emotions I have experienced. And the reflection of this particular stage is...powerful.”

“Load it up.” Scott snaps out, leaning forwards, ignoring the way the world tilts around him, feet planted firmly on the ground.

Anger is powerful; it’s what’s fucking keeping him sober right now. Anger is what’s keeping the tears in his eyes and the bile in his stomach.

He won’t give even the video image of Reyes the fucking satisfaction of thinking he won.

The next image that loads on the screen is Reyes with his mouth open, clearly mid-sentence by the time he started recording. There’s a tell-tale flush to his cheeks, evident even in the low light of wherever-the-fuck he recorded, and his normally perfect hair is in disarray. There’s a lock falling over his forehead, tumbling from the mussed mess on his head, and Scott feels a sharp pain in his chest at the sight.

That...was how he’d looked between his legs that night. Rumpled and flushed.

But the glint in his gaze was different, and back then there had been no dark circles smudging the delicate skin under his eyes.

“Beginning playback.”

_ “--and I don’t even fucking  _ care  _ if you’re angry with me, Scott! I did all of this,”  _ Reyes’ arm swings out wildly, and he pitches in his seat, the video going shaky and unbalanced, making Scott swallow back a rush of nausea,  _ “for you! For the fucking Initiative-- _ your  _ fucking Initiative! Sloane would’ve--she would’ve fucking ripped your Outpost to shreds, out of spite. And I tried to help because I want peace and I fucking wanted to help you!” _

Scott gets another wave of vertigo when the camera moves wildly, like Reyes had shaken it or something, before his face is evident on the screen once more. There’s a darkness to his eyes, reflected in the bruising beneath, and Scott winces back in his seat at the heat there.

_ “I fucking love you, Scott Ryder. With your childish silence and your determination to ignore me! I love you in spite of all of it, and I’m going to keeping loving you even if it is wholly out of goddamn spite.” _

The video cuts out with almost vicious efficiency, like Reyes had tossed the damn thing and broken it instead of just stopping the feed. Scott fights for a moment, slack-jawed and staring at the screen. If that was anger...and that was what, or rather where, SAM said he was at the moment…

“Is that...how I’ve been acting?”

“Your actions have not been influenced by alcohol as often as I believe Mr. Vidal’s have, but….yes. The bursts of emotion are similar, and your behavior is well within the parameters for this particular coping stage.”

“But you said there’s another stage?” Scott asks wearily, scrubbing at his face again, feeling the ebb and flow of his buzz slowly receding.

It’s hard to stay drunk when his brain is working so hard to process what he’s seeing. When his emotions are tearing themselves apart to try and decide a victor. Right now, there’s a sense of pity and guilt winning out over the scorn and hurt. Because he knew he was being affected by what had happened, his actions and thoughts guided by what he’d experienced in some godforsaken cave in Kadara.

But he honestly didn’t think Reyes would be.

What...what sort of man clings to something like that, processes it like that? What man goes through with a betrayal and then suffers like that--unless it hurt Reyes as much as it had hurt him?

“Why did he do it then?” Scott asks the silence of his room, even SAM unable to offer him any response.

He waves a hand, slumped back in his chair, body exhausted with the current mental hoops he’s leaping through.

“SAM? Next stage?”

“Beginning playback.”

The Reyes that appears on the next loading screen could be...maybe a distant cousin to the one he just saw. This one is neatly put together, skin clear, eyes bright, a happy grin stretching across his mouth. It’s as though someone flipped the last Reyes, replacing all the bad with good, and Scott flinches back at the sudden emotional whiplash. He seems to be almost vibrating with happy energy and his voice, when the message begins to play, has none of the sharp corners the last one did.

_ “Scott! Ah, I likely should be waiting to send you this, I overheard some Initiative members talking about how you were traveling to Voeld--you’re likely busy. But it’s of no matter; you can check these messages at any time. Don’t be in any hurry to respond--not that I need tell you this; you’ve certainly not been in any hurry to respond to any of my other messages.” _

And there it is. There’s the hollowness to Reyes’ forced laugh, the emptiness behind his smile, the way his eyes don’t react at all even when the rest of his face curls around the grin. A part of Scott is angry, that Reyes can put on a show so well, but another part of him just...aches. Aches with the knowledge that this is a skill Reyes has, that he even  _ needs  _ to have.

_ “But I distract myself. I was calling to tell you--ah, rather to ask you--but I suppose tell works just as well? No matter. I have...disclosed certain aspects of my feelings towards you to others. Not too many, not enough to be a threat. But the orders from on high, as it were, are that you are to be protected. I know you have not returned to Kadara in some time, I found myself wondering why until this solution nearly fell into my lap. Of course you would be apprehensive about returning, the exiles are not fond of the Initiative, and you just set up an outpost in what they would consider their land.” _

There’s a momentary pause, where Reyes stares into the lens of the camera, eyes almost on fire with the manic sort of happiness etched across them. There’s pain in his gaze, yes, but it’s nearly overshadowed by a delusional sort of happiness.

Like Reyes is planning on lying to himself until he believes it.

It hurts to see. More than Scott thought it might.

_ “I want no more secrets between us, Scott, and I promise--I swear on everything I have that is mine that there will be no more. If you want me to shout your names from the top of the mountains, etch the story of us into every wall in Kadara, I will. Just...please. Please come back.” _

The message cuts out then, with the final soft smile that still doesn’t hope to climb into Reyes’ eyes. Scott rubs a hand over his chest, swallowing thickly, and blinks back a sudden rush of wetness. It’s….Reyes had still held out hope. Hope that it was all some misunderstanding, hope that Scott would return. Two months ago, when Scott was still burying his rage in every mission he could find and hoping to fall into bed too exhausted for dreams, Reyes was thinking of ways to get him back.

Sending messages  _ begging  _ him to come back.

“He...loves me. Or at least he did.”

“My interpretation of the videos is that Mr. Vidal still currently does. I do not believe his affections toward you have waned, despite the time that has passed.”

“I was cruel to him.” It’s not a question, nor does Scott expect an answer, but SAM’s quiet static still feels...judgemental.

God knows he’s talked it over. With Gil--he doesn’t have the strength to bare his heart to Lexi or Jaal, despite those two being better suited to comforting him than the irreverent engineer. Gil didn’t...understand, not really, he’d never had what Reyes and Scott did. But he understood enough the pain of being hurt by someone that was trusted and they’d spent many a night in the engineering bay, passing a bottle of whatever liquor Vetra had acquired back and forth while Scott spilled his heart out.

Maybe that was why he hadn’t moved past the stage he was in. Because every time he thought of Reyes, his immediate thought was to run to Gil and see if he had time for a good ol’ fashioned bitchfest. Gil didn’t offer solutions, didn’t offer any sort of judgment past “sounds like it wasn’t an easy situation,” just let Scott sob on his shoulder and distract him from his duties.

“What’s the next message, SAM?”

“The next stage Mr. Vidal entered was depression, the culmination of realizing you were not returning to Kadara or him in the foreseeable future. I may warn you that this video is difficult to understand, even my advanced language decoders had difficulty making his words out at some points.”

“Let me see it.” Scott murmured, leaning forwards, linking his fingers between his spread knees, focused on the screen.

Because this...this was gonna hurt. If it was as bad as SAM said, as bad as he thought…

“Beginning playback.”

Reyes looks  _ wrecked _ . His hair is a complete mess on top of his head, his eyes are bright red and swollen, and there are tears tracking down his cheeks, spilling over in a near constant stream.

When he speaks, it’s hitched. Like he’s forcing the words out past a pain Scott can understand, can almost  _ feel. _

_ “I’ve...I’ve lost you, haven’t I? I tried so hard, I haven’t ever tried so hard for anything, but I...it wasn’t enough was it?  _ I  _ wasn’t enough for you. I tried, Scott, I truly--I t-tried with everything I had. But it just...it wasn’t enough.”  _ Reyes sobs harshly, body shaking, shoulders collapsing in, arms coming up to hug himself.

_ “I dreamed of you. Last night, I--I dreamed you were here and you loved me and--but it was...was just a dream, no? Because you, you don’t--and I don’t even blame you! Because who--who in their right mind loves a man like me? Who loves a liar? I--” _

Reyes stops speaking suddenly, head falling heavy, entire body trembling enough to be seen. The next few seconds are just rough sobs; each one choked like Reyes is trying desperately to reign himself in.

Scott claps a hand over his mouth to stop his own cries, tears slicking over the back of his hand, and shudders in sympathy when Reyes drags in a harsh breath.

_ “I love you. I’m always--I’m always going to love you. That hasn’t--it  _ won’t  _ change. I’m s-sorry, I am so sorry for everything I did. I can’t--I can’t offer anything else, it doesn't matter anyhow. But I am--I’m just so incredibly sorry. And I love you. And I can’t...I can’t…” _

Reyes reaches out and the video stops abruptly, leaving Scott feeling desperate and aching. There’s a hole in his chest, cut there by Reyes’ words, by the sight of the once invincible man struck so low. He lets his head fall, shoulders shaking as he tries and fails to hold back his own sobs.

There’s an amazing sort of melancholy in it. A glorious….release, better than any he’d gotten by angrily cry-screaming in his quarters. Scott lets it wash over him, lets himself cry until his head is pounding and his nose is running and his chest feels like it’s on fire.

He slumps like an abandoned puppet when it’s gone, tipping his head back to drag in shaky breaths. His own breathing sounds too loud to his ears, the sudden silence of even SAM’s static standby nearly deafening.

“He still loves me. I did all that--” Scott cuts himself off abruptly when another wave of tears threatens, resting his forearm over his eyes like he can hold them back by pressure alone. “He still loves me.”

“It would appear he never stopped.”

“Thanks for that,” Scott hiccuped, body heavy and listless, forearm falling when his muscles couldn’t take holding it up anymore. “SAM, I...I’m gonna go lay down.”

“Your blood pressure and heart rate have decreased. Shall I summon Doctor T’Perro?”

“It’s called heartbreak,” Scott sighed, pushing from the chair and forcing himself to cross the distance until he could collapse onto the bed. “It’s...nobody’s died from it. I don’t think.”

“I will continue to monitor.” SAM intoned, with only the slightest bit of concerned steel to the words. “If your condition worsens, I will alert the Doctor.”

“Can I...can you play the next one?”

“Is that action wise in your current state?”

“There’s a gorgeous sort of suffering to heartbreak,” Scott said, reaching out to pull a pillow under his chin, curling around it. “People write songs about it, even. So...yeah. Play it.”

“Beginning playback.”

The words were a bit muffled, one ear smashed into the pillow like it was, but Scott knew immediately Reyes looked different in the video. Even if he couldn’t see a thing but his desk and SAM’s pulsing orb, he knew the Reyes on screen was a polar opposite to the sobbing, gorgeous mess he’d just witnessed.

_ ”Scott. I don’t know if you’re not receiving these or perhaps if you’ve chosen to ignore them. It matters not. I...I love you. And I am going to keep loving you even if you no longer love me. You made me a better man--this pain does not change that. I wish you all the best and want you to know that you always have a place in Kadara, and an ally. I will be here...if you ever choose to be kind-hearted enough to visit, I will welcome you with open arms. As a lover or a friend, that choice is entirely yours. _

There was such a long pause Scott was tempted to lift his head, despite the screaming need in his body for sleep, to see the screen. To see if that was it. To see if the softly promised words were all Reyes had to offer him after he’d ripped his heart out.

Until the smooth voice spoke once more.

_ ”I came to Andromeda to be someone. I would not be who I am without you, Scott. I have said all I can, thanked you so often the words feel numb on my tongue. And it does not feel like enough, not to me. But it is what I have to offer. A man who searches the stars will not be satisfied with standing on the ground. But I have a new hope when I look to the sky, a hope you have given me--have given all of Andromeda. And if the stars must hear my words of devotion because you are too far to hear, if that is the closest I can get to you ever again….it will suffice. I love you, Scott Ryder. May each star remind you of that.” _

“Oh my god.” It’s barely more than a whisper, choked out past a raw throat, and Scott feels the itch of tears sliding across the bridge of his nose into the pillow.

Exhaustion smacks into him like a charge, mixing with the pain in his chest like a cocktail from hell until he’s choking back tears and bile. He can’t...can’t think, can’t  _ breathe _ , Reyes’ words mixing in his brain until it’s one chant, louder than his thoughts, louder than the pain.

“SAM, set course for Kadara.” He manages through his tears, voice thick and wet, burying his head into the pillow and curling into a ball.

There’s no response, but the lights of the cabin dim and there’s the familiar hum of technology springing to life in the background. SAM has no arms, has no hands with which to pat Scott’s back, but he’s trying to help nonetheless. It’s kind. Kinder than Scott feels he deserves at the moment.

“I just hope it’s not too late.” He whispers, before succumbing to the blissful numbness of sleep.


	4. Reunions and Resolutions

It doesn’t often help that Reyes’ inbox is consistently full. Messages from his contacts, reports from agents, occasional spam mail that isn’t filtered correctly. If anything, it makes it  _ more  _ obvious that Scott isn’t reaching out--because the damn thing works for everyone else. His sigh is probably a bit too melancholy as he switches screens back to one of Keema’s reports, trying and failing to make the words sink into his brain.

It’s been two days since he sent the last message and promised himself it would truly be the last. His pride is already stinging from past messages, some short, some long, nearly all of them embarrassing. But he’s said all he can now, all he has to do is wait for Scott.

Much easier said than done, but he’s found peace in it now.

Peace that is violently interrupted when his door is slammed open, the tiny Angara in it’s jambs gasping for breath before waving frantically at him.

“Keema said--she said to tell you at  _ once _ !”

“Tell me what?” Reyes shoves himself from the desk, grabbing for his sidearm lying on the desk. “What’s happened?”

“A ship! There’s a ship docking at the Outpost--at the Initiative Outpost!”

“Are we under attack?” Reyes demands, striding forwards, fingers dancing over his omnitool to summon a transport shuttle.

“No--it’s the Pathfinder’s ship! The Tempest!”

Reyes stops dead, fingers numb, whole body chilling before a heat spreads low in his stomach. He beats back the feelings of hope nearly instantly, smacking them down with vicious ferocity. He’s got no reason to  _ hope _ , no proof this is anything but official Initiative business that has brought Scott back to port.

But he is here and...well...even if he’s not seeking Reyes out, seeing him wouldn’t hurt? Even if it’s in secret...No.

No more secrets.

“Thank you.” He says gently, laying a steadying hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Tell Keema I appreciate it. I’ll head over to the Outpost now.”

The boy dashes off with a wide grin, no doubt satisfied at a job well done, and Reyes makes a note to mention it to Keema. A bit young to be a runner but he started young too.

“Though perhaps I am not the best example,” Reyes mutters under his breath, before making his way to the shuttle he can hear humming outside the complex.

The ride is...by far one of the most unpleasant he’s had. And he is including times when he was behind the controls and being shot at. Unease churns in his stomach, bringing up a wash of bile every time the shuttle jerks, and Reyes finds himself dragging in almost too-shallow, too-short breaths just to refrain from throwing up all over the interior.

Stars above, what this boy does to him.

Getting off the shuttle only helps marginally, his stomach settling but his nerves stretched thin, making the ground feel uneven as he makes the trek towards the Outpost. He can see the Tempest, gleaming and shiny and a beacon of hope for more than just Kadara, and swallows thickly when he sees the runway is already down.

They’ve disembarked already. Fantastic.

That’s just…

Fantastic.

Scott isn’t the first Tempest crew member he finds, unsurprisingly. He didn’t expect to stride into the Outpost and immediately catch sight of gorgeous blue eyes and the curve of a playful grin.

Then again, he also doesn’t expect a redhead to catch his arm, fall into step beside him, and offer up a blindingly white grin that goes nowhere near his eyes.

“Reyes, right?”

“Ah...depends entirely upon who I’m talking to.” He answer carefully, earning himself a laugh and the release of the grip on his forearm. 

“A friend, I promise. Gil Brodie, engineer for the Tempest.”

_ That  _ stops him in his tracks, Gil only taking a few steps before cheerfully whirling on his heel to face him. People move around them, only a few grumbling about them blocking the main path, and Reyes finds himself sizing the man up. He’s shorter, but only barely, and built more thickly than Reyes himself. And as an engineer, he’s likely got a lot of power in the arms currently crossed over his chest.

Reyes finds himself sliding a foot back, trying to brace himself so that if/when a punch comes, it doesn’t knock him onto his ass.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he says warily, only to drag a laugh from the man.

“I’m not gonna punch you--punching isn’t really my style. Leave that to guys like Liam. I’m more of a betting man.”

“Is there a bet I don’t know about?”

“You’d have to be fairly dense to be unaware of it,” Gil shrugs, still wearing a pleasantly blank expression. “But maybe that’s just on the Tempest. Current bet is 5 minutes post-touchdown that Scott goes to find you. I’ve got my money on 15 though, so let’s chat. I never turn down a chance to swing the odds in my favor.”

“Scott...is looking for me.”

“ _ Scott, _ ” Gil stresses, insouciantly tapping the toe of his boot against the ground, “came to Kadara for you. I mean, the Outpost was a good excuse, but ultimately just that. An excuse.”

“Why?” Reyes chokes out, unable to beat back the surge of happiness that washes over him.

Scott came for him. Hope against hope...even if it was just to tell him to stop send messages--it’ll still be a chance to talk. Not to beg, he’s done far too much of that, but one more meeting to create memories. Memories of the way Scott’s eyes flash when he talks about something passionately, the way his voice pours over words when he’s being playful.

Memories that will sustain him as he goes about it alone. He’d be satisfied with that.

If he must have nothing but rose-colored recollections of what drives him onwards, it will suffice.

“I get the impression he’s not been communicating,” Gil mutters, almost to himself, before refocusing. “Okay, bare bones because tick-tock, Vidal. Scott’s been one miserable sonofabitch since whatever happened between you two. Yes, I know the details and no, this isn’t really the place to hash it out. Or my place, full stop. Not interested in playing match-maker more than I already have.”

“Has he been hurting?” Reyes asks quietly, a million thoughts spiraling through his head.

One particularly nasty one that Gil is not an unattractive man. And he is with Scott constantly, whereas Reyes is grounded and must stay that way.

“Hurting, but finding relief in work and whiskey.” Gil answers, voice going serious for a moment, a jarring change from his light tone. “Relief in nothing else, by the way. Not that it’s really your business, but you take what you can get in the way of comfort, right?”

Reyes nods, swallowing around a lump in his throat, cheeks burning. He’d thought himself trained for a blank mask but apparently his mental acrobatics had been quite evident on his face.

Or this man was particularly skilled at reading people.

“So suddenly, couple days ago--or nights, time is sort of a thing when you’re in space constantly--Scott pops onto the comms and says we’re making a beeline for Kadara. And he’s grinning now, when I see him, almost in a weird way. Like determination?” Gil waves a hand between them, tipping his omnitool like he’s checking the time. “Not sure, really. But either way, I get the feeling this isn’t a visit to punch you. More like a reunion. At least, my liver hopes so.”

“I should...go find him.” Reyes mutters distractedly, Gil grinning before pointing to one of the larger buildings just outside the main bustle of the camp.

“Last I checked, he was debriefing in there. Might be done now though. I say go check?” There’s a glint in his eyes now, a fire that wasn’t there before, and Reyes feels, absurdly, like he’s passed a test he didn’t know he was taking. “Even government buildings have storage rooms, right?”

“Thank you.” Reyes says, ignoring the flush that heats his cheeks and winds it’s way down his neck. “Drinks on me when I see you next.”

“More a poker man,” Gil waves him off, already heading away--back towards the Tempest it seems. “Track me down when you two kiss and makeup. I’m always game for taking someone’s credits.”

Reyes barely hears him, heartbeat pounding in his ears as he turns and stomps towards the building Gil had pointed out. He doesn’t really track anything as he passes, fading in and out of the crowd as he needs to, mind still struggling to process it all.

Scott was seeking him out. Purposefully. And without rage, if Gil was to be believed. It seemed foolish to hope and yet…

And yet.

He expects to have more time. Expects to be able to contain his excitement, his nerves, while he waits for Scott. Expects to have a least a moment to wipe what is a no doubt stupid grin off his face.

What he gets is four feet into the door and the harsh contact of someone in armor slamming into him. Reyes stumbles back, arms already out to catch whoever he just bashed into, only to recoil instantly when Scott looks at him.

At him. Not through him like he had in the cave.

Stars, his eyes were just as gorgeous as Reyes remembered.

“Ah, just the man I was looking for.” Scott’s obviously trying for levity but he fails completely, voice a bit broken and too flat.

“I…” Reyes stops, aware they’re in public, that Liam and Cora are currently glaring at him from over Scott’s shoulders. “Pathfinder. What can I do for you?”

Scott seems momentarily thrown by his polite tone, before wincing and glancing over his shoulder at his squadmates. He scratches at the back of his neck awkwardly, shifting his weight, and Reyes resists the urge to drag his eyes over Scott’s form. It’s been...far too long and it’s almost painful to see that Scott has changed very little. There’s the barest hint of a healing scratch at his temple--one that Reyes desperately wants to brush a gentle kiss over, demand to know where he got it--but other than that, Scott is still Scott.

Still perfect, wonderful, breath-taking Scott.

“Can we talk...in private?” Scott asks almost meekly, Reyes nodding along before realizing “privacy” isn’t going to be a real option in the Outpost.

And his apartment would be an agonizingly awkward shuttle ride too far.

“If you have a suggestion--”

“The NOMAD!” Scott practically yelps, before charging forward, away from the two still glaring daggers at Reyes. “It’s just outside, c’mon, follow me!”

Reyes follows, obedient if confused, and allows Scott to chivvy him into the vehicle. It’s not as crowded as Reyes imagines it might be with another person riding between them, allowing him to leave a solid two feet of space between him and Scott when the other man clamors in. The door slams shut, immediately silencing the sounds from outside it, and they’re left in the darkness of the interior, the viewscreen in standby darkness.

Scott looks...ethereal, lit only by the controls on the dash, as he slumps in his seat and whispers a quick “that could’ve gone better.”

Reyes doesn’t answer, shifting in his seat uneasily, startling when Scott aims a look at the roof, speaking aloud.

“SAM? Could you shut off monitoring to the NOMAD? And just go to vital monitoring?”

There’s a momentary pause, Reyes spots one of the lights on the dash clicking off, before a semi-familiar mechanical tone responds.

“Completed, Pathfinder. Hello again, Mr. Vidal.”

Reyes manages a response before recoiling when Scott twists to face him, suddenly serious and focused. The air thickens between them, hot despite the climate control, and Reyes feels the absurd need to smooth his hair down.

This isn’t fucking primary school. Scott’s seen him at far worse if he watched the more mortifying of the vid messages. Instead, Reyes settles for curling his fingers into fists on his thighs and offers up an incredibly lame “hello.”

“Hi.” Scott’s smile is soft but gentle, more than Reyes ever thought it would be. “Long time, no see.”

“Far too long,” Reyes finds himself saying before he can rein it in, controlling himself with almost brutal efficiency. “You’ve been well, I hope?”

“Yeah, busy but good.”

“Gil said you’ve been working hard.” At Scott’s startled look, Reyes feels the need to palm his own face in embarrassment.

“You talked to Gil?”

“He caught me at the Outpost main road. Just mentioned it, really, a fleeting conversation.” The last thing Reyes wants to do is cause more strife for Scott, especially on his own ship.

But Scott snorts, rolling his eyes in an almost playful manner.

“Gil doesn’t do small-talk, not much. But I didn’t drag you in here to get a play-by-play. I...ah…” Scott changes then, almost shy, picking at a bit of dirt on his armored thigh. “I got your messages. I didn’t watch every single one but...yeah.”

“Ah,” Reyes mumbles, giving in to the urge to rub at his nape self-consciously, wincing when he remembers the state he’d been in when he’d sent a few. “Apologies.”

“No, don’t--” Scott cuts himself off with a groan, waving a hand between them. “Okay, this is ridiculous. We’re sitting here like idiots, like teenagers. So I’m gonna...I’m gonna lay it out for you and please just let me talk and then you can, okay?”

Reyes nods, almost tempted to mimic a zipping motion across his mouth, lacing his fingers together over his lap. Scott takes a deep breath, almost steeling himself, before he starts talking. Slow, at first, each word coaxed out carefully, before it speeds like a dam has broken.

“I was...angry. Obviously, you saw that. I didn’t think you meant it--didn’t think you meant a single word of it. And I stayed angry, let myself wallow in it, thought that if I--if I was mad at you, maybe it’d make me love you less. Make it hurt less. But it didn’t, none of it did. Nothing helped, I just stayed mad, stayed...in the same spot, unable to move. And then SAM...SAM made me watch your videos. Made me watch as you suffered and pleaded and worked through it all. And it made me...shit, I guess it made me understand?”

Scott runs a frustrated hand through his hair, mussing it from it’s careful style, meeting Reyes’ eyes for a heart-stopping moment.

“You didn’t stop loving me. You actually did love me, full stop, which I didn’t believe in that damn cave. And I realized I loved you too and this stupid childish silent treatment I was giving you was just hurting us both. So I...I’m here and I figured if something’s changed, at least I can hear it in person. No more hiding.”

“You were hurting,” Reyes says gently, when Scott doesn’t seem to have any more words on his tongue. “You weren’t hiding. What I did--I can’t say I regret it, not with what Kadara is becoming. But I regret that I hurt you. I will  _ always  _ regret that. You were right to be angry, right to be hurt, and I understood that.”

“But you--” Reyes holds up a hand and Scott obediently stops.

“I understood, it didn’t make the pain any gentler. But I understood your reasons. It didn’t change anything, not for me. I love you, Scott.” The words come easy now, said so many times to himself and to a vid screen. “I will  _ always  _ love you. That...that was never a lie.”

There’s a moment of hesitation, a moment of tension when Reyes feels his shoulders crawl up around his ears in defense. A moment where Scott simply stares at him, as though he’s never seen him before.

And then, almost all at once, they’re both moving. Reyes catches Scott when he lunges, eagerly tips his mouth into the desperate kiss, and groans when Scott tries to climb into his lap.

“Should we--”

“Shut up.” Scott breathes against his mouth, “no, just….let me touch you. Please, I...you never said it. And hearing it is--”

“You don’t have to say it back.” Reyes says helplessly, feeling overjoyed and terrified and completely grounded when Scott straddles him as best he can.

“Fuck that,” Scott grabs the sides of his face, gentle but rushed, fingers digging into the curve of his jaw. “I love you, Reyes. And I’m a fucking idiot for not saying it--for not  _ seeing  _ it--sooner than now.”

Reyes….doesn’t know what emotion drags tears to his eyes. Relief, perhaps, maybe a sort of elation. Surprise, most definitely, and a euphoric joy. But nevertheless he finds himself swallowing back a sob, blinking desperately and wincing at Scott’s soft noise of comfort. There’s no shame in his tears--crying when presented with a reality one only saw in dreams is rather normal--but Reyes can’t help but shift his face away from Scott’s concerned gaze.

“I thought...I had convinced myself that if you knew, that was enough. I never--Scott, I never dreamed I would have you back. Had come to terms with it. So this is...stars, this is a gift greater than any others I have been given.”

He presses a kiss to the palm closest to him, gentle against the armor, and is born anew by the way Scott leans in with a sigh to nuzzle his temple.

“I love you, Reyes. I’m gonna keep saying it. We’ve got shit to work out still but...I love you and we can make it work.”

“Cariño,” Reyes breathes, the word tripping off his tongue with ease despite how long it’s been since he’s used it.

Scott groans, dragging him into another kiss, one that is eagerly returned. He rocks against Reyes, clumsy and desperate, and Reyes can’t help but arch into the touch. It’s been too long, too long with just his hand and memories, and his cock eagerly thickens at the possible prospects. But it feels...off. Almost too uneven. And Reyes urges Scott back with a mournful frown, shaking his head.

“I don’t want to rush this, I want to...treat you well. No more one-sided anything for us.”

“That is incredibly sweet, and honestly, I agree. But I also have not gotten off since the time you sucked me off in your room.” Scott says honestly, making Reyes jolt and stare in shock. “And I am kinda dying here.”

“Since...you’ve done nothing?”

“Have  _ you _ ?”

Reyes doesn’t answer, though he hardly needs to. The dark color of his cheeks likely gives him away and Scott throws his head back on a laugh that’s almost too loud, happy and carefree.

“Oh my god, that is so hot. No, it is! Also definitely not helping me out.” Scott rocks down into him, armor plates heavy and almost too stiff. “We gotta...can we go back? To somewhere--I don’t care where, Tempest or your place. But I want...I want, okay?”

How is he supposed to ever deny this boy anything?

“Lead the way, Pathfinder.”

 

.O.

 

“Oh  _ fuck _ , I missed this.”

“I’m not even inside you yet, cariño,” Reyes can’t help but tease, curling his fingers and adoring the way Scott’s jerks like he’s been shocked.

He’s treated to a heavy-lidded glare, Scott’s hips rolling to meet the lazy thrusts of his fingers, and Reyes buries a smirk in the curve of Scott’s shoulder. They’re sprawled across Scott’s bed on the Tempest, clothes tossed about the room, and the privacy screens over the windows are displaying an amazing amount of twinkling stars. Scott looks amazing in the bright overhead lights, a slight sheen of sweat across his chest as he gasps and wriggles in place, eager and wanting.

_ “Keep them on,” Reyes had ordered when Scott reached for a control panel, finger hovering over the light dimmer. “I want to see you. I have waited too long for shadows to steal even the slightest sight from me.” _

_ “Such a silver tongue,” Scott huffed, but agreed, both of them stripping with nothing to hide their bodies or emotions. _

“Tell me what you want.” Reyes whispers into Scott’s ear, a teasing brush of his tongue dragging a groan from his lover.

“Fuck me. Oh god, I want you to fuck me.”

Reyes finds himself shuddering, cock jerking between his thighs in an almost Pavlovian reaction to the begging words. He slips his fingers out, quieting Scott’s pouting groan with a kiss, and shifts until he can hitch Scott’s legs around his waist. Scott is splayed beneath him like an offering and Reyes takes a moment to appreciate the sight, eyes trying to memorize every last inch of his body.

_ This is not a final time _ , he reminds himself sternly, but still takes the moments, ignoring Scott’s whines and grabby hands motions.

“I’ll need something to slick my way.” Reyes reminds Scott, who groans and twists to fumble in a nearby drawer.

The lube smacks him in the chest, bouncing to land on Scott’s stomach, and Reyes can’t help but laugh. Scott groans at him in response, nudging him with a knee, and folds his arms over his reddened face.

“Oh my god, stop laughing at me. Just get inside me already.”

His hands shake more than he’d like to admit as he strokes a handful over his cock, keeping the movements quick and impersonal.

He’s far too close to the edge, too eager for the real thing after so many phantom sessions with only his hand and imagination.

“I live to please.” Reyes murmurs, scooting forwards on his knees until he can press the tip of his cock to where Scott is slick and open, spit having done a fair enough job when all he was using was his fingers.

“Then please me--ah!” Reyes grins at Scott’s little whine, hitching one leg higher as he sinks just a bit deeper inside.

He’d almost forgotten. It had been ages ago, or so it seemed, since he last felt the tight clutch of Scott’s ass around his cock. Eons ago, when he was a different person, with little compunctions about letting an adorable Pathfinder strip down and ride him in the filthy backroom of a bar.

“You feel so damned good,” Reyes groans out, tipping forwards until he’s braced with his hands beside Scott’s shoulders. “Too damned good. Fuck, Scott, I’m not going to last long.”

He’s barely started and he knows this to be true. It’s too electric, too overwhelmingly fantastic. And the love he feels, the love that makes his heart beat so fast it nearly aches, only makes it  _ more _ .

“I don’t care.” Scott winds his arms around Reyes’ shoulders, hips tipping to meet the next gentle thrust so that Reyes bottoms out with a low groan. “Oh god, I don’t care. You feel so fucking...I forgot how much I love your cock.”

“Let me remind you,” Reyes mutters with a nip to the throat he’s pressed his lips against.

He tries to control his thrusts, keep an even rhythm, drag it out as long as he can. His hips move to a primal beat, pulling back with almost disappointed slowness only to slam forwards brutally. Scott eeks out little hitched mewls with every harsh movement, knees pressed high against his ribs, hips rolling as best he can while pinned under Reyes’ weight.

“Yeah--yeah, just like that--oh  _ fuck _ .”

“Like that?” Reyes can’t help but tease, forcing himself to slow, rolls of his hips replacing needy thrusts. “Does it feel good, cariño?”

“You’re fucking terrible,” Scott snaps, knees spreading wider, feet kicking up into the air so every move drives Reyes deeper. “Oh my god, just fucking  _ rail _ me.”

“There’s something to be--ah--to be said for...savoring it.” Even as he smirks, Reyes shifts his hands, palming the undersides of Scott’s thighs to keep him spread wide. “It’s been so long, Scott, with nothing but my own imagination. Don’t you--don’t you think I want to make this last?”

“Make me come,” Scott orders, eyes lust bright and glaring up at him without heat. “Make me come and then we can do it again and  _ again _ . Give you some new things to think about when you fuck yourself.”

Reyes grits out a curse, teeth gnashing together as he picks up the pace, thighs shaking with the ferocity of his movements. He’s thrusting so hard, sinking home with such determination, Scott’s feet are bouncing in the air. His whole body is moving on the bed and Reyes thinks, wildly, that if the bed had a headboard they’d be denting the damned wall. It’s everything reunion sex should be and more and the thought of more, the promise of more, makes him close his eyes against a welling onslaught.

“You’re so  _ good _ ,” Scott whines, one hand shoving between them to grab at his cock, hand nearly a blur as he works himself over. “Oh fuck, I almost--almost forgot how fucking good--”

“You will  _ never  _ forget this,” Reyes snarls, losing his rhythm, sacrificing it in lieu of grinding as deep as he can get, watching the way Scott’s eyes roll back in his head.

Scott’s breathing goes wrong, hitched and held for too long, and his entire body shakes apart as he spills over his stomach. Reyes drops his head, unable to keep it up, and works him through it with vicious intensity. Scott shudders beneath him, body softer after the intense clench of his orgasm, hands reaching up to drag Reyes into a kiss.

Amazingly, it’s the kiss that does him in. Not the sight of Scott coming all over himself, not the vice grip of heat around his cock. A simple, gentle, desperately starved kiss. Like coming home and discovering a new world all at once.

“I love you,” Scott whispers fiercely as Reyes shakes apart, body spasming through the orgasm, his lover’s hands gentle but grounding on his cheeks. “I love you, I love you, I love you so goddamn much, Reyes Vidal.”

He can’t even speak, aftershocks still ravaging his body, jerky thrusts into Scott’s oversensitive hole forcing hushed noises of apology. Scott holds him through it, legs wrapping around him once more, and Reyes feels the absurd need to cry once more as he’s brought back down to earth.

“That was...Scott, I--”

“Shush,” Scott grins against his temple, dropping a kiss there. “I know. You’ve said it enough, I  _ know _ .”

“I’ll say it so many more times,” Reyes promises, “as many as you want.  _ More  _ than you want. Until you tire of hearing it.”

Scott laughs then, carefree and cheerful, loud in the quiet of the room. He tugs Reyes into another kiss, both of them breaking apart to breath when it’s needed but coming back together instantly. The sex didn’t satiate his need, if anything it only made it worse, but Reyes feels content for the moment to lay like this. Still inside his lover, the sweat cooling on their skin, held close and protected from anything outside the room.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Scott says quietly, brushing their noses together in a shocking show of restraint given their current position.

“You’re too good for me.”

“We’re good for each other,” Scott hesitates for a small moment before exhaling quietly, stealing another small kiss. “You’re making me a better man, Reyes.”

There’s a pause, a silence that says everything Reyes can’t give words to. Scott’s eyes are soft, not guarded, and Reyes feels blissfully  _ happy _ . In ways he hasn’t since he left the Milky Ways. In ways he never thought he might again when Scott turned and left the cave. In ways he thought only existed in impossible dreams.

He can’t even begin to respond with worthy phrases. There are no words for how Scott makes him feel, for the gift he has been given, for how  _ grateful  _ he is that the universe saw fit to give him such a marvelous present. Instead, he tips their foreheads together, smiling, and lets the warm happiness he thought all but dead suffuse his form with a sense of delighted resignation.

“That’s  _ my  _ line.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, I'm a terrible person. But hey, at least it's interspersed with porn! I'm momomomma2 over on tumblr if you wanna come yell at me, I promise I have tissues and hugs for everyone.


End file.
